::alio!::

thinking too hard - again

By the way, Stefan changed his password while drunk and now can't get into Magpie, the little server that hosts this page and his. So unless you are really good at hacking Linux and can help him out, it's going to be a while until there are any changes on a Magpie site.

I learned a little more about Sheri, my new co-worker, today, and vice versa. We talked about our boys (hers is her husband) and how dorky they were. It worked out well, especially as mine has just bought a new car and can talk of nothing else. Next time you see the Pie, ask him about it. He gets this goofy look on his face and he can't stop smiling. It's the only time he actually bubbles over with things to say. It's really cute, actually.

I spent a lot of time walking around and thinking today, as the weather was nice. I recorded a preliminary field journal entry on my doodad, sort of a before-I-begin-this-fiasco type deal. I'm a little worried and more than a little discouraged about how it's turning out. On the plus side, the doohickey that will help me type up said field journal entry should be arriving from New York either Monday or Tuesday.

Anyway, in addition to thinking about that, I thought about my money situation (which is dire), and about planning for the future, in a really old person fashion. It started to worry me too much, so then I started thinking about my hair colour. I don't think I'm going to do this red again any time soon. It fades too quickly and my hair grows so fast that I already have noticeable roots and it was just a few weeks ago that Cait did it. I might not even use that brand any more, because of how it fades. We'll see. As of now, I don't even have the money to get it cut, let alone dye it.

Although, come to think of it, my money situation isn't all THAT bad. Right now, I have just enough money in my account to pay for my doohickey, which I charged to my VISA. Other than that, I have no other credit card debts. I owe Stefwad ten bucks, but that's no biggie. I get paid next week for my dayjob, and that money can just go straight into my savings. I don't forsee a need to buy anything big in the near future. I might spend fifty bucks or so when I'm out around town, but that's it. And the money from my moonlighting job as a TA is going straight to savings. I'm not touching that at all. So who knows? I might have the money to go to England after all.

Peace. Hockey. Out.

UPDATE: 28 January 2005, 9:32 PM

I wasn't going to post again today, but tonight's game was so damned GOOD. Right before the game, Christine handed out tape and a Sharpie and we all put our names on our helmets. Very bonding-like. Then we played our little hearts out. We had a ton of people, so it was five-on-five, and the action was pretty intense. White team (my team) kicked Black's ASS about 9-3, or something that ridiculous.

There was just so much energy -- it was great! We were all cheering each other on (now that we know everyone's names) and it was just fun. There was a point where we were on the defensive, and something clicked in my head, and I suddenly realized I was in a box, and we were making it work to our advantage. It was COOOOL. We're really starting to play like a team. I'm sad I'm missing the team skate and photo at the Corel Centre on Sunday, but I really have too much work to do.

After the game, we got talking about falling on your ass and hurting your tailbone, which led to a comparison of hockey pants and their spinal protection, which led to a chorus of "feel my butt! Feel MY butt!" Until Madeline pointed out that we were being absurd, so we just took our pants off and passed them around for comparison. It was RIDICULOUS.

But fun. Tonight I'm going to get a jump on the weekend chores so that I have no alternative tomorrow but to do homework. AND THEN TO BED!

Sweet dreams,

XOX A

research is expensive

The good news is that I am nearly through my pile of library books. The bad news is that the pile represents less than a third of what I have in the way of resources. Thank god I refuse to use the internet. Well, maybe for one article . . .

Anyway, and today I dropped $213 (US) on a transcription machine. I needed it, and that was the cheapest, plus shipping.

So now I'm ultramegabroke. I like spending money -- as long as I have some to begin with.

That's why I'm glad the next birthday coming up is MINE.

I'm not even doing Valentine's Day, because it's over-commercialized. I've beaten it into the Pie that NOTHING will be exchanged on that day. I have to work that night, anyway. Keep up the illusion to the Wayner that I am still single, so he doesn't get nosey.

I'm even too broke and too short on time to go to Rhode Island this March. I might drive down in April, but I don't know.

To recover from this depressing post, please get this and enjoy it.

waiting by the pc

Minor stylistic change to the ol' index.html.

Today feels like a bust. It should have been fabulous, but kind of ended up as a drag. Here's why:

My first class was cancelled, due to Derek being ill. Fine, you think, three hours of freedom. Except it takes me 45 minutes to get to school in the first place, so I can't exactly go home and be productive. And, thinking there would be class, I didn't bring anything to study. So I spent three hours gossiping and chatting with Darryl and Damon. It's amazing how much two completely different men have to say about the same things.

Then I had my other class, blah blah blah, and came home. Whereupon Chris informed me that my boss' wife had called to say there wasn't anything for me to do at the office, so I might as well stay home.

Except no one's home for me to hang out with on my unexpectedly free night. I don't know what's going on. I don't even know what's on TV. I'm certainly not doing homework, that's for sure. It's not part of the program tonight.

Well, if you're around and you're reading this, gimme a call.

wee sma's

I'm really wired, and it's far too late for me to be up.

My email keeps trying to convince me that I want to go see YANNI at the Corel Centre. I keep telling it to go to hell.

I bought a new shoe rack. Twenty minutes ago, I put it together and reorganized my closet floor.

I need another shoe rack.

overeager

I'm at the Pie's -- and he's a lazypie.

You know what I did, last night? It was brilliant. I went and I organized all my website stuff, separating all these posts into individual files, naming them properly, making it all pretty -- in the vague, VAGUE hope that maybe Stefwad would do something about it. *sigh* I live in a constant state of disappointment.

But also, what I did, was make a crude screencap of my page, as it was designed LAST MARCH. You can see it here. It's pretty. Enjoy it. Until next time, folks, I wish you pink hockey tape and cranberry muffins.

Out.

update

I am still alive, although still sick. I didn't go to work yesterday morning in order that I might have the energy to make it through class in the afternoon. I almost didn't make it, as my geography "lab" was on "How to Improve Your Writing." Gag me with a rusty spoon. Or with my own tonsils, as the current case may be.

Anyway, I got to work today with the intention of leaving at lunchtime (because this thing has a tendency to get worse during the course of the day). But the Wayner is sick as well, with something similar to what I have, and Sheri's daughter has a bad cold and has to go to the doctor's this afternoon, so Wayner decided we could all leave when we wanted to (which for us means around noon-ish). And Susanne (Wayner's wife and bookkeeper) did our paycheques on Wednesday, so she had marked in my hours for Thursday (which I didn't work), AND a full day for today (which I'm not working). So I got paid for a helluva lot more hours that I didn't work. This is amazing. Tantamount to hell freezing over.

So that's my story. Sheri's leaving shortly, and then I'll leave when I'm done what I have to do here. I'll go home and do some more homework (I got a lot accomplished yesterday, readings-wise, and there's no way I can play hockey tonight), and hopefully I'll have it all mostly done before tomorrow, so I can have a free weekend.

That's the plan, anyway.

update 21 january 2005, 5:35 pm

So, I've been emailing the faculty of all the universities I've applied to, looking for potential supervisors for my MA project. I've had tentatively positive responses so far. The faculty at UBC, UAB, and Carleton have all been enthusiastic, and if they can't supervise me themselves, they're anxious to sort something out.

Except the University of Calgary. If you go to their website, you'll see that their Anthro Department has a grand total of TEN faculty. WTF? Slogging through those was a painful process, as most of them are primatologists, and NONE of them have any interest in my project. One of them even sent me a nasty email telling me that I was too stupid to realize she was a primatologist, berating me for emailing a prof who had retired recently, and outlining the exact way to look up faculty members on the website. I don't know how she figured I'd accessed her name in the first place, but whatever. If they updated their website once in a while, life would be easier.

Anyway, the application is due 1 February, and you're SUPPOSED to have talked to SOMEONE who's at least MODERATELY interested by then. I was getting desperate. Then I thought, hang on, what about the Department of Sociology? At CU, the two departments are combined, and everything is really interdisciplinary, thanks to Charles. At UC, they are separate. So I figure, what the hell? Carleton does interdisciplinary supervisions all the time. I give it a try. I've emailed about five professors there, and while I was looking at the last one, I nearly exploded in my chair. His current project? A study of violence in CANADIAN ICE HOCKEY.

So, yeah. Cross your fingers.

bleugh

Ugh.

Sick.

Bed.

Out.

hot anthropologists are imaginary

My day has, so far, gone according to plan. I got to sleep in a little more, because the Pie drove me to school, and I picked up everything I was supposed to and talked to Karen about my new job. And I saw -- get this -- a hot boy in the Anthropology Department! He was walking with Dr. Given and some suit I didn't recognize, so I'm guessing he's a TA. Damn! I wish I still had TAs.

On an unrelated note, I have recently become addicted to Brian Eno's Ambient Music for Airports. If you haven't checked him out, please do so. He's unlike anything you've heard before.

waiting for the weekend

It's FRIIIIIIIDAAAAAAAY!

I don't know what it is about my weeks, but I'm always completely EXHAUSTED by the end. I never know how I am going to make it to hockey, and then when I get home from the game, I'm more tired than I ever thought I could be. Then I end up sleeping until noon or something on Saturday and wasting most of my day. There's gotta be a more efficient way to do this.

It probably didn't help that I spent a good two hours after I went to bed listening to the ice on my roof crack, inch slowly down the shingles, and then fall crashing to the ground. It was like being under a glacier.

I had a blast with Minda last night. We FINALLY saw Bridget Jones 2. I laughed so hard. And that Colin Firth -- the older he gets, the hotter he gets. I have a thing for tall boys with curly hair, I guess. But it was also just fun to hang out with a GIRL for once. There are too many boys in my life, it seems. And I don't get to see the girls in it as often as I would like. As a result, I'm turning into a weird person.

Minda and I spent a lot of time bitching about school. You know how that is. But I feel I must warn you, folks. I'm going to become very boring in the next three months. If you think all I can talk about now is grad school and my thesis, think again. The only people who will be able to identify are my classmates, so the rest of you might not want to talk to me so often. Actually, you won't be able to. I am turning into a hermit. I have WORK to do!

UPDATE 13 JANUARY 2005, 9:51 AM

So, I mailed off two of my applications yesterday evening. Some of the reference letters I will have to send on Monday, which makes me nervous, but what can you do? Then I went shopping.

Jen, you will be pleased to know that I bought a new pair of black pants yesterday. I will now throw out ONE pair of my staple pants. So now I'm down from four pairs of staple pants to just one. Are you happy now?

Man, what's with this weather? I was out with Stefan yesterday, and it went from freezing rain to a THUNDERSTORM and pouring rain. Which meant I drove home at 25 km/h. Then it all froze, so I wore cleats on my boots in order to get down the hill into the Village this morning for work. Uphill will be a challenge, indeed. But it's supposed to go up to TEN DEGREES today. WHAT GIVES? This is January in Ottawa. It's supposed to be forty-five below. Hrm.

Is it Saturday yet?

Iiiit's a smaaall world aaaafter aaaall

Grad school is going to kill me. Complication follows complication and it's making me want to take a leave of my senses. Add to that the fact that I am now a teaching administrative assistant. Plus my real job. Plus the shitload of work that Derek, then Louise, dumped on my and my classmate's shoulders today. Plus negotiating my interview schedule with a man too French to function. Plus thesis. Plus . . . plus . . .

So don't surprise me or make any sudden movements or loud noises around me. I'm stressed out and I might stab you with something pointy.

I'm temporarily taking a leave of my sanity and consuming a large bowl of Breyer's Heavenly Hash ice cream whilst renaming my music files.

On an interesting note, today's classes were -- interesting. I'm totally FUCKED for both of them, which is almost funny. Derek ran into me in the elevator and was INCREDIBLY nice to me. He then spent the entire class being crazy, which left me laughing hysterically on the inside and freaking out at the same time. He's definitely a nutjob. Another interesting point is that, in the class of twelve or so, three of us are LCI class of 2001. How fucked up is that? One of the LCI people is a girl who moved in the same circles with me back in the day, although we were never really close -- Karen. She goes to Guelph, but has stayed in town this year to get some visiting credits. Weird. The other guy is this dude I remember disliking severely in high school, Hadaf. Luckily, all my other classmates hate him too, for being a total idiot in their other classes. He's trying desperately to show the world that he is an anthropologist, but what he spouts makes it painfully clear that an anthropologist is exactly what he isn't. And he committed academic suicide, as Amanda said, by arguing with one of the more famous and influential of Carleton's professors. He even interrupted Derek at one point to snottily ask, "and where did YOU go to grad school?" Derek (and you have to admire the old dude) tossed over his shoulder, "HARVARD," and went on with what he was doing. Man, you shoulda seen the faces of the people in the class who KNOW this professor. I would never have done that, as much as I dislike him. I do kind of respect him, after all.

Louise's class was another adventure. She really terrifies me, although I think one of the reasons she acts towards me the way she does is because she has absolutely no idea what to DO with me. That's one of the pains of having an amazingly original thesis idea. *buffs fingernails on Wild Cats jersey, purchased by stupid boyfriend who is in MARKHAM* Amanda and I spent all three hours of Louise's class knowing that we were going to be academically MURDERED in the near future -- which reminds me -- I have a PRESENTATION next week.

*insert FOOOOOM! as Ally's head explodes*

if at first you don't succeed

I think I slept almost twelve hours last night. I went to bed at something like 1030, and I got up around 1100. I definitely needed to catch up. Now I'm just doing laundry and waiting for Cait. We're going to dye our hair today.

*insert Stefan saying, "It doesn't look like you diet." here*

I had a great time at hockey last night. I scored another goal, my third in seven games (eight if I hadn't skipped to study for exams), which, combined with the two assists that I think I have, gives me a PPG of 0.714, which is not bad at all, for a rookie.

Also, "Detroit" brought in a replacement, Jen, or "MiniDetroit," and she's fun, also a teacher. We've got like five teachers on the team now, not including me. Detroit also thought, last night, with the help of Madeleine, that I might be good as a guest speaker to her anthropology class in high school. That might be fun. Boy am I going to be busy this term!

I was just thinking about Rachelle's post of the other day, and how she couldn't stand the idea of being bad at something she adored. I can understand that, and I lauded her when she went, fuck it, and did it anyway. I mean, I will never be even a mediocre hockey player; I will always BE bad, and I've come to terms with it. But I love playing, and I love the people I play with. There are no pretensions among us, so conversations are always easy, even though we range in age from about twelve years old to sixty. It's also kind of hard to be shy when you can't stop and are constantly running into everyone else.

So I don't think it matters if you're good or not. If you try your hardest and you have fun, the results will show (0.714, baby!). If you're not supposed to be there, you wouldn't be. That's that.

Peace, love, and hockey sticks,

Out.

Alison is Cool

So . . . sleeeeeeepy.

What I wouldn't have given to stay in bed today.

Typical to form, Andrew, who got a ticket for this morning, made the rest of us -- and Andy -- stay up with him to watch movies until the wee sma's. Then I got up at 530 to say goodbye to him. Then I got up at about 745 and stumbled to work.

I.

NEED.

CAFFEINE.

Also, I got an email from my favourite prof last night, telling me she was too busy in the next week to write two of my reference letters. Yikes. I told her a simple "Alison is Cool" with her signature would be dandy. Anyway, then she offered me a job as an undergrad teaching assistant. Not actually teaching -- basically, I'm a glorified secretary. But that's what I do now, so I figure I can do that no problems. Plus, it's 50-60 hours for the whole term, at approximately $17 an hour. That's a pretty sweet deal. If I make that, and don't spend any of it, just spend my real job money and pay my expenses with that, then I should have some money for England.

So, yeah. That's it for now.

Peace.

numb leg

It's always a drama in the Bell household.

Case in point:

I have pinched the sciatic nerve in my left leg, and as a result I cannot feel the skin below my knee.

My scheduling crisis was luckily resolved yesterday. Turns out I'm too much of a nerd for my own good. I had too many Anthro courses, so I dropped one and picked up this Geography course called Culture, Society, and Space. I have it this afternoon.

Andrew was supposed to head to Tokyo this morning. However, after dropping him off at the airport at 4, we received a telephone call. Turns out his flight was YESTERDAY. He won't be leaving until at the earliest Tuesday. So if you wanna see him, he's still here.

Pizza Piss-up

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

ATB appears to be up and running again -- how peculiar. I didn't get to post my New Year's Retrospective here because nothing was working, but I think everyone that mattered got it via email, anyway.

But now I have a funny story for you, and this happened last night. First, however, it bears a little bit of introduction.

Across the street from my side of the house live three or four men that we like to call the Frat Boys. Now, they don't belong to a fraternity, and they're all in their late thirties, but they just remind me of a bunch of happy-go-lucky student bachelors. They live in this tiny house owned by one of their fathers, and I have no idea what they do for a living. They do, however, have various "projects" which they endeavour to complete on the weekends. One such weekend was spent in sinking a concrete patio, upon which they arranged all their inflatable furniture. Much drinking ensued to celebrate this feat. For Christmas this year, they erected a huge inflatable Grinch outside their front door. Much drinking ensued to celebrate this feat.

Basically, these boys like to party. When I moved into this house, on a Canada Day many years ago, they were seated in their front yard at 9:00 AM, and the first thing they said to me was, "you wanna join us for a drink?" I was fifteen at the time, and looked even younger. Nice boys, though. Every important Canadian holiday sees them setting up some form of appropriate display in their front yard and then having a party: Christmas, Canada Day, Grey Cup Weekend, the Playoffs . . . the list is endless, and these occasions are the only times where they get up early in order to get in some good drinking before noon.

Basically, though, they're a bunch of fun guys and they're great neighbours.

Anyway, last night, as I was getting ready for bed, around midnight, I heard a lot of engine revving, and some swearing. I looked out my window, immediately (and correctly) suspecting that the Frat Boys had something to do with it. I saw a tiny red car perched on a snowbank that crossed the Frat Boys' "driveway" (read: mud track into back yard). The inhabitants of the FB House drive pickups, so getting over that hump is only difficult for visitors. The driver was so hopelessly stuck that he tried to enlist the help of a working snowplow, which carefully ignored him.

Finally, the head Frat Boy, whom I like to call Chuck, just because he looks like he could be a Chuck, came out in baseball cap, parka, polkadot boxers, and wellies -- typical January attire for a Canadian winter. After some discussion, he tried to push the car back into the driveway, while the driver pressed on the gas. That not working, he pushed it out -- or tried, and then fell on his bare knees in the ice. Eventually (and this is after I assembled my brothers to observe), they were successful, and the car was free and in the street. Instead of driving off, however, the driver got out. An exchange was made, and Chuck scrambled off through the ice back to his house. The driver was not, as I had suspected, a FBH visitor -- he was the pizza man.

I hope he got a good tip.